The Science of Sex Appeal
by MmmLemony
Summary: Mordin finds his thoughts being taken over by Shepard, only to learn that he's imprinted on the Commander.
1. Chapter 1

"Shepard." Mordin blinked in surprise as he entered the lab to find the commander standing awkwardly with a blue ceramic bowl in her hands. "was not expecting you so late. Problem?" She seemed equally surprised, eyes staring at him owlishly as she fumbled for the right words.

There it was again, the painful thudding in the professor's chest that he failed to identify. As he watched the usually confident woman gnaw nervously at her bottom lip, he couldn't help but take notice of the comforting warmth starting in his stomach and spreading over his body. The longer they stood there without saying a word, the further he fell into trance-like state with an over-sensory awareness for Shepard. 'Similar to tunnel vision,' he would later report.

When her low contralto drifted across the room he experienced a sudden sensation similar to being yanked out of warm water and thrown into the sterile environment of the science lab. He ached in the absence of the warmth, he realized, and his heart clenched.

"I noticed you weren't at dinner." She spoke over the hum of the fluorescent light fixture overhead. "Gardner had already gone to bed, so I made you some soup." As she talked, Mordin found himself stepping closer and closer, as if hypnotized, his usually racing thoughts focusing only on Shepard. He felt both at ease and as if he were drowning in confusion at the same time, but he was too preoccupied to work through his emotions.

His amphibious hands reached up to take the bowl from her grip, his gloved fingers brushing up against hers. Another burst of pulsing heat enraptured where they touched and Mordin produced a high humming in his chest cavity. The salarian watched as unmasked interest and something he couldn't identify crossed Shepard's face. He suddenly felt foolish and cleared his throat to hide his embarrassment.

"Was performing routine check-up on Mr. Krios. Lost track of time." Professor Solus inhaled the scent of the food deeply, a smile working its way onto his features. "Asari stew. Many health benefits. Thank you."

Her face lit up and Mordin felt the same daze settling over him. Had he been in a normal state of mind, he would have run diagnostics on himself to make sure he was alright. His irregular heart beat and the nervous, giddy sensation in his stomach were cause enough for concern.

"I'm glad you like it." Shepard fidgeted with her fingernails as she stared into his eyes, her face turning the oddest shade of red that made Mordin blink curiously. "I really should be heading to my quarters, though. I'll see you tomorrow?" There was a certain inflection in the question that implied a second meaning to her words. It could have been the lighting, but Mordin could have sworn he saw the coloring in her cheeks spreading over her neck and ears.

"Of course, Shepard. Here if you need me." On an impulse, he raised his left hand, showing his palm to the woman opposite him. They both stared at it for a while until he realized what he was doing and hurriedly withdrew the gesture. As he did so, another high thrumming noise reverberated in his chest. A green tinge rose to his horns as he sidestepped past Shepard and busied himself with clearing a space to eat.

Commander Shepard made her way out the door only to turn back around, her body half hidden from view, and murmur a soft 'good night' before leaving for the elevator.

Just those two words and Mordin had to grip the edge of the white medical table to keep from chasing after her and offering up his palm to her again. He couldn't let this go unchecked. He needed to see Doctor Chakwas as soon as possible.

Mordin didn't get the opportunity to see the doctor until the next morning cycle. Chakwas had barely woken up when Mordin came through the door, appearing almost frantic. "Doctor. Afraid of infection. Elevated heart rate. Fever."

Doctor Chakwas took a deep breath and plastered a grin on her face, sleep still ebbing away at her senses. "Come sit down and tell me when you started feeling ill and we'll try to figure this out." The salarian nodded eagerly and made his way to the medical table covered in a thin, translucent sheet of paper, and took a seat. The doctor pulled up a chair and procured a clipboard and pen, finding amusement in the way Mordin childishly moved back and forth over the paper to listen to how it crinkled.

"Professor Solus. What seems to be the problem?"

Mordin sniffed and grasped at the edge of the table. "Been feeling strange. Elevated heart rate, nausea, fever, in and out of daze... Very worrying." Chakwas made a couple of notes on paper and turned her attention back to her patient.

"About how long has this been happening?"

He sniffed again. "Indefinite period of time. Possible disorder. Salarians prone to social anxiety."

She returned her gaze to the paper, scribbling more notes. "Is there any specific situation you experience these symptoms in?" There was a lengthy pause where Mordin said nothing. Only when the silence became especially drawn out did Chakwas look up from her clipboard to Mordin, who had a strange, glassy look in his eyes. "Professor?"

"Shepard." He answered in a hushed voice, barely above a whisper. "Experience symptoms around Shepard." An increasingly familiar hum vibrated in his chest.

The good doctor's brows creased. "Has that been happening a lot lately?" She pointed a finger to where the sound had come from.

"Yes. In the company of Shepard."

Chakwas breathed out two syllables that sounded very close to "I see" before standing from her chair and moving to put it back at her desk. "Professor, I have an idea of what your problem is." Mordin listened attentively, barely breathing. "Did you consider the possibility that you're in love with Shepard?"

Mordin was physically blown back by the question, hands held above his head and eyes wide in shock. "Doctor. Impossible assumption. Salarians do not possess a sex drive. No concept of romance."

She leaned against her desk in a way that almost reminded Mordin of Shepard and a warm tingle began to work its way through his stomach. She reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose and visibly slumped. "I didn't say it was probable, only a possibility." Her words didn't do anything to ease Mordin's confusion. "How about this; I'll do some research and get back to you on this tomorrow."

The salarian had already slid off the table, reveling in the sound of the crinkling paper and offering Chakwas a thin-lipped smile. "Much appreciated, Doctor."

As it turned out, Mordin found waiting to be more difficult than he had already originally thought. Under normal circumstances, there was always a test to run or a problem to solve, but now he had none. He considered seeking out the commander to talk with under the guise of relaying medical information, but the thought made him terribly nauseous and he decided it was in his best interest to not go looking for her.

And so, for once, the day passed slowly for Professor Solus. At one point he found himself in the corner of the lab, tapping his foot and playing absentmindedly with the zipper of his coat, pulling it up and down comically to entertain himself. During another time of boredom, he endeavored to count all of the stars outside of his window, but always his thoughts returned to Shepard. At first it was the way she smelled, then it was the color of her hair, which quickly became the color of her skin, which no doubt led to the texture of her skin which, of course, meant he could only be expected to end up imagining the feel of her skin underneath him. He imagined its taste, its suppleness, its feel against his own bare flesh. He wondered how much more efficiently he would be able to study the muscle movements of her body if she weren't clothed, the heat it would give off.

Something he'd never felt before snapped him out of his daydream. It was similar the warmth he had experienced in his stomach, but much more intense and focused between his legs. A baritone thrumming came from his chest now, in stark contrast with the soprano. He gasped, clenching his fists and curling his toes, scared of the way his body was reacting. The fire only intensified, though, filling his head with thoughts of the commander.

"Professor Solus. Doctor Chakwas is on her way to the lab." EDI announced over the speaker. Mordin's eyes darted from left to right before he became aware that it was only the AI unit, not someone he actually had to worry about seeing him.

Shaking, he found his way up from his position leaning against the white wall. A chill scaled up his spine, making his body convulse as he became entirely aware of how erratically his heart was pounding. While attempting to steady his breathing, a thin and watery liquid fell between the clothe of his pants and his legs and pooled at the base of his foot, clear in color. He stared at it dumbly, trying to process through a fog what he was looking at.

At then it became familiar again. "Ah." He breathed deeply before that sound of the door sliding open caught his attention. He adjusted himself so his body was blocking the puddle was sight. "Doctor." Mordin could hardly recognize his own voice as it had taken on a deeper register, more like a growl.

Chakwas hardly batted an eye. "Mordin. I made some interesting discoveries." Her eyes drifted towards his feet and he shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat to bring her attention back to him.

"Please, share." The doctor pulled up a couple of documents on her datapad and swiped through them before calling Mordin closer to show him.

"Do you know how salarians reproduced before mating contracts?"

"Of course. Used to imprint on other salarians before developing the social role of the Dalatross."

The lab was completely silent save the murmur of running electrical equipment for a considerable length of time. Chakwas could only watch as Mordin blinked and began to fully realize what he had said. His mouth fell into a frown and his head was held a little higher. He closed drew his lids over his eyes and took a deep breath in and let it out carefully.

"Have imprinted on Shepard."


	2. Chapter 2

"I'd suggest changing your shirt, Commander." Joker reclined lazily in his chair before Shepard had a chance to greet him.

She cocked and eyebrow and picked at the cotton of her standard-issue, red Cerberus shirt. "Why is that, Joker?"

He sighed, obviously frustrated, and spun his chair so he was looking at her. "Come on, you can't tell me that I'm the only one on the Normandy that's seen Star Trek." Shepard threw her head back and let out a laugh. "You laugh, Commander, but I'm tired of making references that no one gets."

"Don't worry, Mr. Sulu, I'm only going to Illium. My fish died again." She took the rim of his hat between her fingers and pulled it over his eyes.

The helmsman flailed his arms in the most effective way he could and fixed his cap. "Why do I have to be Sulu? I've always seen myself as more of an Uhura." That earned him another chuckle and a gentle pat on the shoulder.

"Alright. Whatever floats your starship."

Joker flashed her his teeth in a brilliant grin and returned to his controls. "Still, I'd suggest taking one of the other crew members with you. Pet shopping or not, you're still in a red shirt." Shepard acknowledged him with and snort and pulled at her shirt once more before hitting the back of his chair.

"I'm off, then. Keep EDI under control while I'm gone." Joker gave her a mock salute, but stopped her as she was walking away.

"Commander." Her footsteps stopped her shuffled lightly as she turned back to him. "When you get a chance, would you mind checking on Mordin? I don't get down there, obviously, but I have it on good authority that he's been falling behind in work."

She'd be lying if she said that her heart didn't skip a beat or two at the mention of the scientist. "That's not like him."

"No, it's not. A lot's riding on him, Commander. We can't afford any problems."

"Yeah, I know."

She took his silence as an indication that he had nothing more to say and went to prepare a shuttle to land on Illium, but not before grabbing a coat from her quarters and zipping it up over her shirt. On her way to the elevator, she bumped into Mordin muttering under his breath. He stopped immediately when he saw just who he had, quite literally, run in to. His composure changed drastically, going from his usually slightly hunched posture ('Possibly due to his concave chest,' Shepard always concluded) to a more erect position, shoulders held back and held his head higher.

"Shepard. Was not expecting to find you here."

Shepard furrowed her brow in confusion and looked over her shoulder. "We're right outside my room."

Mordin blinked and looked over her shoulder also. "Oh! Of course. Expected to find you here."

A small smile wormed its way onto the commander's face and she studied his features. He wasn't saying much, which was odd for him, but that wasn't the only thing odd. The salarian refused to look at her face, instead choosing to stare at the zipper on her jacket or the piping to his right. He held his mouth in a tighter line than usual and she could have sworn that his jaw and horns looked almost green.

"...Is there something you needed to see me about?"

His attention snapped back, though his vision still seemed clouded. "What...?" He touched his face lightly. Shepard could tell just by looking at him the he wasn't doing well and was struggling to think straight.

"Mordin, maybe you should go see Chakwas." She put a comforting hand on his shoulder and began to direct him back to the elevator. "Joker said you weren't feeling well. I know salarians don't require very much sleep, but you've got to give yourself a break every once in a while." Her voice trailed off when they stepped into the elevator and Mordin rested a gloved hand over her bare one. Shepard could feel every pulse between her and the scientist and it made her weak at the knees. No sound was made as the elevator moved past different floors until reaching the medical deck.

Shepard swallowed the lump in her throat and half pushed Mordin to the doctor, though he made no verbal protest to the action. The door slid open and the commander marched Mordin to Chakwas just as a low hum reverberated through the professor's chest. Shepard stopped dead in her tracks, hand still attached to his shoulder and closed her eyes to listen to the hum. Chakwas watched in awe as Mordin did the same, his mouth falling agape and body going completely rigid.

The pair just stood there, entirely absorbed in listening to the humming, neither moving. They appeared unaware of their surroundings and not totally conscious. She felt wrong doing it, but Chakwas took Mordin by the hand and pulled him from the younger woman. Both jumped to attention and breathed heavily, wide eyed. Chakwas knit her brows and glanced at the salarian. "Shepard brought you here."

Shepard shook her head to clear her mind and ran a small hand through her tangled hair. "Yeah. Joker says he hasn't been feeling so well, Doc. Do you mind taking a look at him?"

Chakwas nodded and instructed Mordin to take a seat as Shepard straightened her black jacket and repeatedly sighed, not quite sure what to do with herself. She looked at all of the walls and medical equipment while trying very hard not to eavesdrop on the doctor and her patient. She didn't know why she stayed. It would have made more sense to find Thane and go to Illium and leave Chakwas to her work, but worry for Mordin was gnawing away at her gut.

"I can't prescribe any..." Shepard caught herself listening in again and bit her lip. Eavesdropping was rude and she knew better, but still...

The commander wandered into a corner and tapped her foot impatiently, pretending to be examining the grooves in the walls or the way the light reflected off of a metal counter top. "Shepard." Chakwas called to her and she diverted her attention back to the other two in the room. "You may leave, if you wish. Professor Solus and I will fare well enough on our own." Her face softened and she made a motion to shoo away Shepard. "Go get your fish. We'll still be here when you get back."

"Feeling fine now, Shepard." Mordin assured her. She caught his gaze and held it for a moment longer than was necessary and nodded to them, only now noticing the rampant case of butterflies in her belly. "Look forward to seeing you later." Shepard beamed at him and nodded again before running to find Garrus to accompany her at the kiosks.

He was, of course, in the middle of calibrations. Only after extensive reasoning did Garrus agree to go planet side. "I still don't understand why you have to take me, Shepard. Thane does a pretty damn good job of keeping you company when I'm busy."

"Oh, shut up. You know you didn't have anything better to do today." Shepard playfully punched him in the arm. "Thane's great for really deep, thoughtful conversations-"

"And I'm not?"

"-but that's not what I need right now. Don't give me that look. You know you're my favorite"

"I don't know, Shepard. All that time you've been spending in the science lab..." Another punch to the arm, harder this time. The turian laughed wholeheartedly and reciprocated the sign of affection. "What are we here for? Fish?"

Shepard mumbled in confirmation and led their way through the throngs of costumers all yelling to the asari clerks. There was so much noise and commotion that she almost didn't hear a volus question about a very obscure and specific product. "I heard you were carrying a record of Gilbert and Sullivan." She heard it, of course, but barely through his sentence peppered with breathing.

"I'm sorry, do you have a Gilbert and Sullivan record?" She stopped and leaned in over the kiosk.

"Hands off." The volus pushed her roughly away from the stand. "I was here first."

"How much?" She persisted. The asari woman gave her a once over, making no attempt to try and hide the fact that she was checking the commander out.

"For you? I'll knock it down to half price. 500 credits."

The volus pushed Shepard again. "No, no. I was here first!" He hit a hand against her thigh. "I was here first! I'm willing to pay upwards of 1200 credits!"

"Hold it, volus. I'll pay 1500 credits." Shepard flashed the asari and award-winning smile and a wink and leaning on one arm over the counter.

The volus made a terrible screeching sound. "You can't! You can't! 5000 credits!"

The asari ignored the volus as she rang up the record for Shepard. "Here you are, sweet thing. 500 credits, as promised. Sorry for any inconvenience."

"Hey, don't worry about it. I deal with his sort all the time." Shepard dropped another wink, took the bagged record, and pushed off the counter to continue her search with Garrus.

Garrus snatched the bag from her and peeked inside, dangling it just out of her reach, taking unending pleasure in how she had to stand of her toes with her arm completely extended to even come close to reaching her purchase. "What's this? A present for your boyfriend?" He teased with specific emphasis on 'boyfriend.' Shepard managed to pull the bag from his grasp, giving him a look that warned him to sleep with both eyes open.

"He's not my boyfriend."

"No, you're right." Shepard was almost pleased with herself. Almost.

"He's your _lover_."


	3. Chapter 3

"Just seems impossible, Doctor." Mordin relayed to Chakwas after Shepard had left for Illium. "Nearing the end of my life. Illogical time for body to pursue reproduction." Even he guffawed at what he had said. "Inter species reproduction only found successful in cases of asari." He shook his head from side to side. "No, no, no. Completely illogical. Why now? Why so close to the end of my life cycle?"

The salarian cradled his forehead in his hands and did something he'd never dared before. He sobbed.

Chakwas was at a loss of things to do for the man, so she settled for pulling him into a comforting embrace. She hushed him and rocked back and forth. All Mordin could do was sniffle and weep. His wrinkled lids were pressed tightly together, though it did nothing to stem the flow of tears down his equally wrinkled cheeks.

He cried for what felt like hours before moving his stiff, aching muscles and shrugging off the doctor's arms. "Doctor. Very confused. At a difficult point in my life to imprint. Opinion on how to proceed?"

She offered him a smile and wiped a tear from his face. "There, there." She pulled him into another motherly hug and rubbed circles in his back. "Well, if you ask me, I think coffee is a good place to start."

He pulled away to stare at her disbelievingly, searching for any sign that she was lying. "Must admit, not the answer I was expecting."

"Well, what do you want me to say?"

He began pacing, tapping his chin. "Was expecting scolding, tell me I'm acting foolish. Discourage me, Doctor. Out of my element." He inhaled deeply and quickly. "Almost dead, dying."

"The way I see it, we're all dying here." Her eyes narrowed determinedly. "Going out for coffee won't kill you."

"Doctor-"

"Mordin Solus. As your doctor, I'm telling you to take a day off. As your friend, I'm telling you to spend that day off with Shepard." That shut him up. "Now, I want you go back to your lab and wait for Shepard to come back and then you can ask her about that coffee, hmm?" Mordin nodded slightly in understanding and took Chakwas' hand in his own. He grasped it firmly and shook it.

"Thank you, Doctor. Will return to my lab and think the situation through. Maybe do research." She withdrew her hand from his gloved one.

"I have faith in you, Professor."

"Thank you."

He left the medical bay confident, but if someone had found him in his lab it would have appeared to be a very different story. He began by researching romantic customs in humans. He'd had to study social customs of the Earth species, but in his education the subject of romantic relations had only barely been touched. Mordin learned that the species had a wide diversity of cultures and ideas about romantic relationships, though the term 'dating' appeared quite often. According to the extranet, dating wasn't always, but was sometimes preceded by gift giving. It was about that time that the old professor started to get nervous and rummage through every drawer, cabinet, and box in the lab for anything that closely resembled a present.

He figured that, as dearly as he enjoyed conducting experiments of dried asari tentacles and turian warts, Shepard would not feel the same. He had narrowed down his search to a silver cup he had received from the hanar and an asasri beaded headpiece when something else caught his eye. It was in a box he had already gone through that was now shoved haphazardly under the lab table.

At first glance, he couldn't tell what it was, only that it was a pale pink. He promptly dropped the vial of phosphate he had be examining and bent down to pull the box back out. Moving aside papers and trinkets, he took the pink object in his hand and brought it closer to his face, dusting off the thin layer of dust and making himself sneeze in the process. Mordin smiled and his concave chest swelled with pride.

It was a shell. A simple, pink, small shell, just small enough to fit easily in his pocket. It was perfect. He tripped and stumbled over discarded documents and overturned trashcans to get back to his desk. The professor scribbled down a check list and scratched out the first item on the list. His heart was thudding as he patted down his lab coat, muttering instructions to himself before something hit him. "Clothes!"

Mordin half fell to a closet tucked away in the corner of his lab next to his folded bedsheets. He palmed the door key and his face fell when the closet opened and he remembered that it was entirely empty. Always the thinker, however, he didn't mope, instead running for the hallway that joined the lab and the armory.

"Lieutenant Taylor!" Jacob greeted him with a salute only to be interrupted by Mordin. "No, no, no time. Need formal clothing."

Jacob pressed his eyebrows and gave Mordin a puzzled, blank stare. "Professor, I hardly think that my clothes would be adequate for your..." He paused, looking the man opposite him up and down from head to toe. "...alien frame."

"No time. Asking as your friend." He inhaled deeply. "Please."

The dark skinned man heaved a reluctant sigh and motioned for Mordin to follow. He led him to the cabin quarters for the crew and kicked a chest out from under his bunk. "Here, this is where I keep my clothes, take what- hey!"

Mordin was kneeling next to the chest before Jacob could finish his sentence."Very appreciative. Will return to you after I'm done." He took a bundle of clothes into his arms, a a belt, and found the bathroom. He slipped out of his lab coat and communication collar with minor difficulties, it was getting into the new clothes that proved to be a challenge. The button-up shirt was easy enough. He'd watched other male crew members put them on before. He put his arms sleeves and buttoned it up, disappointed that the dip in his chest could, more or less, be distinguished.

The pants were like any other pair of pants he'd ever worn, but far too large. No sooner had he fashioned them around his hips than they pooled around his ankles. In an acrobatic feat, he maneuvered his back to bend backwards and take the belt from where he had hung it in the shower. He pulled the trousers back up to his hips and wove the belt through the belt loops. He tucked the bottom of the borrowed shirt in to the waistband of the dark brown pants. After a few moments of searching, he found the green cardigan he'd taken from the chest. Again, easy enough to put on.

He rolled up the bottom of the pant legs and stood back to admire his work in the mirror. Every article of clothing was too big for him, but he didn't see that. He saw a dashing young man—a young human man, ready to sweep the commander off of her feet. One detail was doing a lot to ruin his dream, though. He glared at the dip in his chest and stood in the bathroom, bare feet on the tiled floor, adjusting the cardigan until he was satisfied with how it hid his imperfection and buttoned three of the buttons.

Mordin grinned.

"Looking good."

Retrieving the shell from the pocket of his lab coat, he made his way back to the lab with his discarded clothes in hand. He got odd looks from the crew as he padded to his room, but disregarded them. He dumped his lab coat unceremoniously in the corner by his bed sheets. Doing a once over in the reflection of the window, he nervously clutched his broken horn and scowled. Yet another thing about him that was so alien to Shepard.

He slumped and rubbed his horn gingerly at first, then with more intensity. The feeling of the friction made blood rush between his legs. The scientist pulled his hand away and traced the tips of his three fingers down to the base of his skull, rubbing and massaging there. A moan escaped his lips as his hand not in use trailed down his torso and played with his hipbones.

The professor was so engrossed in his ministrations that he didn't hear the door slide open.

"Mordin!" An upbeat Shepard called.

"SHEPARD!" Mordin stopped instantly and hid his hands behind his back. "Was not expecting you back so soon. Just finished running tests on Collector DNA. Very busy." Judging from her expression, she didn't realize what she'd walked in on.

"I got you something."

That caught his attention. "Was not expecting a gift."

She laughed. "Of course you weren't. That's why I got you one." She handed him a sack and watched as his eyes lit up and he removed the packaging. Inside was a dusty, cracked record with scratches running vertically on the surface. "I know you probably can't read it, but-"

"Gilbert and Sullivan." A high pitched humming came from his chest and a pleased grin graced his features. "Much appreciation. Was not aware they still existed."

Shepard inched closer and stared at his chest. "I found it on Illium. I like what you're wearing."

In truth, she thought he looked comical, but in a charming way. "Really? Found it in the closet." He lied. "Thought it looked human." Shepard screwed up her face and plucked at the cotton of the shirt.

"Why would you want to look human?"

Mordin looked as though he was going to answer, but dug a hand into his pocket instead. He procured the light pink shell and stared at it longingly for a second, then handed it to the woman in front of him. "Found this today. For you." She stared at it in the same way he had and slid it into her own palm with care one wouldn't expect to find in the commander.

"It's beautiful, Mordin." She ran her fingers over the spine and examined it thoroughly. "Thank you." Mordin could almost swear his heart burst when she looked up at him, so close, with those eyes. He knew for a fact that his horns and neck were turning a bright shade of green. The humming that was becoming increasingly familiar made itself known as he lifted his left hand in the air, almost in a trance, showing her his palm.

Shepard took her own hand and laid it flat against his, holding her fingers so her hand more closely resembled his without breaking eye contact. His hum dropped two octaves in pitch and grew in volume, electric sparks passing between them.

"Shepard." He spoke, sounding out of breath. She pressed herself closer in response. "Was wondering if you would like coffee." Mordin cleared his throat and inhaled sharply. "With me. A date."


	4. Chapter 4

And so Shepard and her alien went out for coffee.

Mordin talked mostly about his nephew. He talked about him getting his tenure and his sense of humor and all the trouble he got into growing up. In return, Shepard talked about a cat she used to have.

Most of the night continued like that. Mordin would bring up a subject, expand on it in a personal sense, and then Shepard would give him a similar story from her life. The salarian was never at a loss of things to talk about and stories to tell. They sat at that table in the hidden part of the Illium shopping center for hours. Mordin did most of the talking, and the commander just rested her chin in her hand and hung on every word he said, just enjoying the sound of his voice.

The flow was interrupted when Shepard gave a yawn and wiped her eyes. He suddenly looked concerned and pushed back his chair to stand from the table. "Shepard. Tired. Will escort you back to your room." She tried to convince him to sit back down, but he was adamant that her health was of utmost importance to him.

Though reluctant to get back on to the Normandy, she did so anyway to appease the professor. He kept an arm wrapped firmly around her waist their entire walk to the ship and didn't let go until they reached the elevator.

"Noticed you have not been sleeping well. Suggest going straight to bed." The humming sounded through his chest, quiet, but unmistakable. "Have been worried about you, Shepard."

She smiled fondly at him and played idly with the collar of his shirt. The elevator stopped. "Walk a girl to her room, would you?"

"Would be delighted." He offered her his arm like he had seen done in so many Earth movies and she took it. He appeared to be very pleased with himself as he escorted the commander to the door to her quarters. "Enjoyed tonight, Shepard. Found conversation very stimulating."

"I also found it stimulating." She chuckled and dropped her hands to her side.

A pregnant pause hung in the air over them while they did nothing but stare into the others eyes. Shepard studied every wrinkle, every scar, every green-tinged strip of skin. Her hands made their way to rest on the tension of the white button-up, bringing her even closer to the man. Mordin hesitantly trailed his own three-fingered hands down the sides of her waist to rest comfortably on her hips.

Heart hammering in her chest and tension pooling between her legs, Shepard balanced her weight on her toes and cocked her head to one side, eyes slipping shut. Mordin, completely out of his element, followed her actions and closed his own eyes and also cocked his head to the side. Unfortunately, it was the same side and the couple bumped heads before successfully locking lips.

They both withdrew, rubbing their respective sore spots before meeting eyes again and laughing uncontrollably. Mordin held her as close as he could and buried his face in her hair. She placed a hand on his temple and pulled him back before gingerly kissing his thin lips.

Mordin immediately responded to her actions enthusiastically by parting his mouth and sucking on her bottom lip. Although kissing was not practiced by the salarian culture, he acted on instinct, grinding his hips into her pelvis and holding her cheek.

Shepard groaned and reached the top of his head to caress his horns. He moved his head back a fraction of an inch and struggled to catch his breath, eyes wide and wild. "Shepard. Suggest it is not in your best interest to do that." She only raised an eyebrow and repeated her previous action. "No, please, Shepard." His eyes rolled back and his head lolled to one side. "No, no, no, Shepard." An almost ear shattering buzzing came from his chest.

The commander removed her hand and lightly ran her fingers over his wrinkled lips. "Alright, I give. What's the noise?"

"Ah, yes." He cleared his throat, suddenly nervous as his composure changed and his eyes darted around the hallway. "Wanted to talk. Not preferable environment. Quarters seem more appropriate. If you don't mind, Shepard. Promise not to," he stopped and fought to find the words. "Try anything."

She palmed the keypad and held out an arm. "By all means. After you."

He nodded at her in gratitude and advanced into her room. He stood and waited for her to come after him. Instead of standing in front of the salarian, she brushed past him and headed straight for her bed. Shepard sat and patted the open space next to her. Mordin obliged to her unspoken invitation.

"Shepard. Have recently discovered something about myself." He furrowed his brow and blinked a few times. "No, no, no. Must start at the beginning."

The human reached out and put a hand comfortingly over his thigh. A smile wormed onto his features and he covered her hand with his.

"Salarian females lay a clutch of eggs every year. Strict social ques allow for only a few eggs to be fertilized. Fertilized eggs hatch and grow into females. Mating contracts ensure eggs are fertilized." Mordin expected Shepard to interrupt, but instead she waited quietly. "Mating contracts are a fairly recent development. Told you once that salarians possess little sex drive. Not entirely true. Prior to mating contracts, salarians imprinted on a suitable mate. Imprinting causes both salarians to form an extreme emotional and physical bond. Talked to Chakwas, Shepard."

"But that doesn't explain that sound."

He lightly touched the dip in his chest. "Similar to turian sub-harmonics. Intended to ease the other before," he coughed. "Copulation."

Although realizing the seriousness of the conversation, Shepard had to hold back a chuckle. "So, you want to... copulate with me?" The salarian remained silent. "There's nothing to be ashamed of." She angled her body towards that man and took his head between her hands to draw it to her shoulder and let it rest there, understanding that he was embarrassed. "I want to copulate with you, too, Mordin. Just not right now."

He sighed from his position near her breast. "Understand, Shepard. Not intentional. Humming is subconscious. Often don't hear it, myself."

"I like it." She leaned into him as he used his good horn to nuzzle her cheek. "Does this mean you've imprinted on me?"

"Would appear that way."

"I'm flattered." She stoked his horns in the way she had earlier and Mordin was practically purring. "I like you a lot, Mordin. I want to try to make this work."

"Assuming a lot of 'trying' will not be necessary." He responded without missing a beat.

They weren't able to stay that way for long, with Mordin half in her lap and her caressing his skull. EDI came over the speaker and interrupted them. "Shepard. Dr. Chakwas was searching for Dr. Solus. I informed her that Dr. Solus was using the facilities. Expect a call if he is not found in the next ten minutes."

"Thank you, EDI."

"Logging you out, Shepard." Mordin sat with his back mostly erect and watched Shepard for an indication that he needed to leave. She gave him an apologetic look as he offered his palm to her. As she laid her own palm against his, Mordin explained under his breath, barely more audible than a whisper.

"Salarian display of intimate affection. Considered medieval by most social orders. Believe human equivalent would be kissing, and to turians, headbutting." The professor looked to be beyond pleased with himself. Shepard locked her thumb around the back of his hand and brought herself to sit on his lap, straddling his waist.

"You have to go see Chakwas." He opened his mouth to protest but Shepard held a finger to his lips. "I have to go to do a couple of things tomorrow, but I should be free tomorrow night. You want to come back to my quarters to have dinner?"

He picked up on the underlying implications. "Will have to do more research. Make sure all health risks may easily be taken care of. Could not live with myself if put you in danger, Shepard." The emotion in his eyes was so sincere that the commander forgot how to breathe.

He drew her in to kiss her on the lips, one hand hand guiding her. "Will bring the wine." He assured her before reluctantly standing and leaving.

Once the room was empty, save Shepard, she cupped seashell in her pocket and smiled before becoming increasingly aware of a pressure between her legs. She turned the lights out, fed her fish, found her hairbrush, pulled the sheets back, pulled her pants down, sprawled across the bed, and went to work, thoughts of a scientist salarian plaguing her thoughts.

**I apologize if the flow of this chapter was strange. Normally I would write a chapter over the span of one or two days, whereas this had to be stretched out over four.**


	5. Chapter 5

**An apology and a warning in advance- this chapter of the story contains very, very alien sex. That is all. Enjoy.**

Shepard only had one thing on her mind when she practically fell off of the shuttle- a shower.

She got in from Tuchanka and thoroughly massacring a Thresher Maw and half limped to the elevator, smelling like sweat and krogan and a bad dye job. The commander brushed off the stares from the crew at the scar running from her left ear to her chin, though she still fingered it self consciously. Getting in to the elevator, she smelled herself and quickly withdrew in disgust. Definitely krogan guts.

The elevator door slid open and Shepard stumbled towards her room, stripping herself of armor as she went, throwing the pieces in the general direction of her bed. She took her underclothes off hurriedly and let herself actually breathe. Opening the bathroom door, she kicked her underwear off her foot and flicked on the shower head with an easy movement of her wrist.

The hot water cascaded in sheets down her body, coming away in varying shades of brown and draining down the metal grate. Shepard scrubbed every inch of her body that she could reach. Once or twice, she could have sworn that she heard the door open, but EDI didn't tell her about anything, so she shrugged it off as her imagination.

It was the longest shower she'd taken since even before joining the Alliance. She finally shut off the shower head and leaned with her palms flat against the tile. She took a brief moment to bask in the lingering warmth of the shower before toweling off her hair and stepping back into her personal quarters.

Her hair dripped lightly onto the floor as she searched through her drawers to find clothes to change in to. She found a loose white v-neck and a pair of black sweatpants and pulled them on over her underwear. Her omnitool pinged, indicating that she'd received a private message, but she ignored it in favor of stretching.

The commander fell back onto her bed, ready to turn in for an early night when she heard a plastic crinkling sound that definitely did not come from her sheets.

She turned and was met by a bouquet of alien roses. She took them from her bed and fingered the petals delicately before it hit her like a ton of bricks.

Shit.

She had a dinner date with Mordin.

In her dirty, krogan-scented room.

She jumped from her seat and quickly found a glass of water she had brought back to her bedside a few nights back and filled it with water at the sink, placing the bouquet inside and placing it on her desk. "EDI."

"Yes, Shepard."

"Get Gardner and ask if he can bring up leftovers from dinner to my cabin for two."

"Logging you out, Shepard."

The woman ran frantically through her room, throwing the discarded armor into the closet, out of immediate threat to the aromatic state of the space. She rummaged through the numerous hidden cabinets until she found an air freshener, spraying it on anything she'd ever touched. After securing the can back into the cabinet, she went about making her bed and lighting a couple of candles she'd gotten for Christmas a few years back. In the middle of brushing her hair, Gardner interrupted her. "Shepard, what do you need two plates for?"

"No time. Thank you. Now leave." She grabbed two plates of food from him and physically pushed him towards the door.

"Now, Commander, I won't stand to be treated this way-"

"Dully noted, get the fuck out."

"Shepard, Dr. Solus has just left his lab and is heading for the elevator."

"SHIT. Gardner." He held up both hands in defense, looking like a dog caught with its tail between its legs.

"Message received." He relayed as he turned and sprinted for the elevator.

Shepard did a once over in the mirror, adjusting her bra and taming stray hairs. Just as a precaution, she smelled herself for the billionth time that day. The krogan smell was gone, but the scent of store-bought hair dye still clung to her skin. She decided that trying to drown out the odor was a wasted attempt and stood still instead, heart hammering in her chest and palms feeling sweaty. She closed her eyes and tried desperately to find her center of focus.

She was Commander fucking Shepard. She was a hero- an icon. There was no reason for her to be acting like a blushing virgin. Except, of course, that Mordin was going to be having an intimate meal with her in her personal quarters with expectations that there would be- what was the word he used?- copulation.

All of her thinking and worrying wasn't helping any with her nerves, and the sound of the door opening didn't help, either.

Mordin stood in the doorway, holding two glasses and a bottle of asari wine. He was dressed much in the same way he had been the night before and it wasn't difficult to discern who exactly he had borrowed the clothes from. He offered the commander a hesitant smile and descended down the steps to place his load next to the plates of food on her desk.

"Shepard. Have been thinking." She gnawed on the inside of her lip, eyes never leaving him as he closed the distance between them. "Skipping meal may be best course of action." He took her hand gently in his and ran his thumb over her knuckles. "Have been otherwise occupied with..." The salarian coughed. "Compromising thoughts all day. In great need of relief."

Giving their dinner a quick glance, she looked up at her alien through her lashes and brought her body so it pressed against him. "I'd be more than happy to 'relieve' you."

Mordin purred, eyelids closing and thrumming in his chest making his intentions very clear. "Must ask before beginning, did you get a chance to read over the information I sent you?"

Oh. That's what the omnitool had alerted her about earlier.

"No. I was... tied over." Shepard admitted.

He shook his head, almost dismissing the idea that it was important in the first place. "Alright, understandable. Must ask another question." His head dipped closer and closer to hers, his breath tickling the end of her nose. "Any prior experience with amphibious species?"

The question only took a moment of pondering. "I dissected a frog once." The look on Mordin's face was somewhere in between amused and mortified. Instead of apologizing for not taking him seriously, Shepard led him backwards by tugging him along, her hips swaying back and forth, though Mordin seemed to pay little attention to her hips.

For Mordin, everything was almost in slow motion. She backed onto her bed, guiding him to hover over her. The baritone humming was audible to both of them and Shepard closed her eyes to listen to the sound, reveling in its warmth. Despite his knowledge he had accumulated on human intercourse, he was at a complete loss for how to proceed.

He didn't have to do much because Shepard cupped the back of his skull in her hands lovingly. She scratched at the base and traced foreign patterns on its surface. Mordin was only a few inches above her when he smelled her and something in him snapped.

She smelled- God, did she smell- delicious.

It was a smell that Shepard would later equate to human hair dye, but to him it had no name. It was strong and light at the same time, airy and bold, somewhat earthy, teasing his nose. She smelled like him.

The normally docile salarian's blood ran hot and he flipped the commander over so she was on her stomach. He wasted no time in ghosting his hands through her hair and enjoying its silkiness between his fingers, like sand, he mused. Mordin moved back down and pulled her shirt off from the hem. He instantly positioned his head to kiss at the small of her back, nibbling and sucking and he worked his way up.

When he got halfway up her back he stopped and stared at something that had never encountered on a human before. He'd seen freckles, scars, hair, warts, skin discoloration, irritation, but never had he seen spots. Purple and red spots, and he was loving it.

"Oh." Shepard craned her head sideways to see why he had stopped. "I forgot about that. Sorry. You don't have to look at it. I wouldn't mind." Though something in her voice told him that she did mind.

It took him awhile to determine the most effective way to unhook her bra, but after accomplishing his task he had a better view of... whatever it was on her back. His fingers traced each spot individually. There must have been three dozen or so, all peppered down her back and up her shoulders. The dots were varying degrees of red and purple and velvety to the touch. "What are they?" He was almost afraid to ask. Shepard had seemed so self-conscious about it before, though he couldn't, for the life of him, understand why.

"They're acne scars."

"Ah." Upon looking back at the woman he'd imprinted on, he saw that she was hiding her face in her pillow. "Why would I not touch them?"

"Because they aren't exactly what you'd call beauty marks."

Her body gave an involuntary shiver as his hands felt every single scar. "Quite the contrary, Shepard, they are exceptionally," he stumbled over the use of the word. "Beautiful." It didn't take a scientist salarian to see that she didn't understand. "Let me explain. Some salarians are born with fluctuations in skin pigmentation, markings. Varying types of markings- varying degrees of social beauty." The man paused in his explanation to sit a little farther back and admire the full effect of its breathtaking beauty. "Dots, spots, most uncommon variant of these markings. Also held in social culture to be the most," he tripped over the word again. "Beautiful."

The good professor gingerly plucked her bra straps from her shoulders and coaxed her to return to laying on her back. His fingers eagerly pinched the cups of fabric from her chest and discarded it behind him carelessly. Mordin's breath caught in his throat and a searing heat ate through his entire being. His eyes met hers, wide with disbelief. He was completely, utterly, and totally speechless.

"I didn't know you would like them so much." She breathed, the swell of her breasts flushing red with sexual excitement at the prospect that she could awaken what little sex drive he possessed.

"Of course I like them." He mirrored her syntax and brought a hand to her chest. His eyes were transfixed there, in awe and something similar to worship. What Mordin did exactly, however, surprised Shepard. He didn't feel up her breasts, as she thought he would, instead his attention was focused solely on the acne scars that marred the valley between them. "Ohhh, Shepard." He moaned, eyes closing tightly and back arching into her.

The effect that her scars, what had long been the object of much embarrassment, had on him hit her full force and manifested itself in a tingling sensation between her thighs.

"Mordin." She called to him, her voice hoarse with arousal. "As elated as I am that you find my scars attractive-"

"Beautiful." He corrected.

"- I need this to get a move on." Mordin couldn't take her pants off fast enough, shucking her panties with relative ease. Shepard's body arched closer to him as he gripped her hips with tremendous strength.

Mordin's mouth traveled up and down the expanse of her skin, marveling in how alien it felt and how her muscles jumped under his work. He licked and nipped and bit and kissed and sucked up her stomach, tongue dipping into the crevice of her bellybutton. The commander mewled under him, helpless to do anything but stoke his horns. He responded kindly to that action, his thumbs rubbing sensual circles into her pelvic bones, halfway between her hips and the swell of her vagina, teasing the hair that grew there. As he fingers splayed across the back of his head, he moved his attention to the peaks of her breasts.

He took a rose pink nipple into his mouth and suckled on it. Mordin was about to pull away and ask if she liked that, but her moans and breathless sighs proved to be answer enough. So he stayed there a good long while with his mouth, teasing and nipping the pebbled flesh, running his tongue over a blue vein that was very prominent against her pale flesh. The doctor's hands, however, were doing something very different. They made their way from her hips and down her thighs then around to her ass, gripping and pulling her legs apart forcefully to get to what he really wanted. As his skilled hands lightly probed her labia she let out the most delightful sound she could ever make. She moaned his name.

"Mordin." It was barely above a whisper, but there was no mistaking what he'd heard. Her breath was coming in labored now and he repeated his actions, tracing her lips. "For the love of what ever alien God you adhere to, take your fucking clothes off so you can fucking fuck me." That took him off guard. Mordin didn't expect that kind of reaction from his ministrations.

"Please." And, in the blink of an eye, she resorted to begging. "Please, take your clothes off." Mordin stopped nursing her dry breast and leaned back onto his heels. She propped herself up on the pillows and watched hungrily as he pulled the button up over his frame. He rested momentarily, drinking in the way Shepard memorized every curve of his body with her eyes. He gave her a playful smirk and took her wrists in his hands, bringing them to his concave chest for her to explore as he worked at getting his pants off.

Shepard made quick work of studying his torso with her hands. The concave shape of his chest fascinated her to no end and the tones of his skin drove her mad. He was gorgeous, the way the dim ambiance lights shaded the crevices in his body and highlighted other parts. She was so engrossed in his stark lack of nipples that she didn't notice he'd lost his trousers until he clambered very gracefully on top of her, the humming raising slightly, but still very obvious.

The commander couldn't help her eyes from wandering farther and farther down the length of his body, searching for what she would be working with when... she didn't find it.

Her heart gave an extra beat in mild panic. The salarian took no notice of her state of shock. Instead, he placed his mouth over hers and fervently worked his lips. When she didn't return his affections, however, he became worried. "Shepard?" He questioned, his inner eyelids squinting.

"Mordin." She swallowed the lump in her throat and held his wrinkled face between her hands. "Where is it?"

One of his spidery legs snaked its way up between her thighs, dragging the sheets with it. Heat permeated in waves off of their bodies, sending Mordin deeper and deeper into a euphoric state. "Don't understand the question." He murmured.

"Your penis. Where is your penis." The statement was so straightforward the Mordin couldn't help but throw his head back and let out a hearty laugh.

"Watch." Was his only instruction as he, also, direction his view downward. Shepard watched in unmasked awe as his member slithered- literally slithered- from a slit between his legs. It had almost no girth but stretched nearly eleven inches. And it moved- oh, God, it moved- like an arm or a leg or a finger.

"Prehensile."

"Like a dolphin." Shepard breathed.

"Precisely."

And with one, swift movement, Mordin sheathed himself inside of the woman and they let out a collective, drawn out moan.

"Oh. Wow." Was all she could manage to say. That thing- his penis- was worming around inside of her, working itself deeper and deeper until it couldn't descend any more. And then, totally unexpectedly, it began expanding outwards. It was at this time in their love making that Shepard was really, really wishing she'd taken a moment to review that email he sent her. As if she wasn't oversensitive already, a pungent smell wafted through the air. A smell akin to the one she couldn't wash from her body.

There was no thrusting and out, there was no humping but Shepard found herself inching closer and closer to release. She throbbed around his dick so deliciously he was reduced to an incoherent mess. Mordin laid all of his weight on his mate, locking palms with her. His eyes were squeezed shut as his member only became more engorged.

The feeling of Mordin growing inside of her was more pleasurable than she could fully comprehend, her brain working over time to try and process what was happening to her body. She thrashed and moaned and whimpered and he only continued to grow. Eventually it passed the line of pleasure into discomfort, but, for reason she couldn't explain, she only wanted more. Her stomach was in tight coils and her toes clenched and unclenched.

Mordin was almost entirely unresponsive, seemingly focusing on what he was doing with his entire mind. His cock was pumped full of more and more blood until it created a watertight seal and then everything stopped.

The professor brought his mouth to Shepard's ear and spoke her name like a mantra. Not her surname, but her given name. Shepard tried to let go, God knows she did, but something was holding on to her, keeping her from actually releasing. But she tried.

Then, every muscle in Moridn's body tensed, the humming stopped, his penis pulsed a handful of times, and it was like a dam was released. Shepard released with a scream and Mordin did exactly the same. Whatever substitute salarians had for semen flooded her womb, none escaping past the seal he had created. It was warm and made her feel unnaturally relaxed, but it kept coming... and coming and coming and coming.

It didn't stop. It made her usually flat stomach bulge and inflate. She watched it, eyes half lidded. The sight should have made her worry, anxious, or scared, but instead she only felt contentment. Overwhelming contentment. Mordin watched it also, perplexed. He splayed his free hand over the skin and stroked it with each of his fingers, his eyes also half lidded.

After a good, full minute, he had ceased ejaculating and his member had shrunk enough for him to be able to pull out. He did just that and fell haphazardly next to his lover. He rested his head on one of her breasts and angled his head so he could lovingly kiss her stomach. For once, Mordin Solus didn't know something. He didn't know why he felt so drawn to he abdomen, but that was a question for the morning. And it wasn't morning.

She languidly wrapped her body around his so their limbs became entangled. He purred happily and grasped her back to him so their stomachs met and her breasts fit into the dip of his chest. It was like putting puzzle pieces together. She fit so perfectly with him.


End file.
